Spilt Milk
by plumbloom
Summary: A drunken dance at James and Lily's wedding reception. Sirius/Remus, getting-together fic, oneshot.


"I now pronounce you man and wife," intoned the sour-looking warlock leading the marriage ceremony, and James pulled Lily into a crushing kiss while the wedding party exploded into cheers and applause.

In the aftermath of the mad rush from the cathedral, every person straining to congratulate the happy couple as they fled under a shower of bewitched rice, oats and what appeared to be tiny fluttering Snitches (probably Sirius's doing, Remus thought wryly) one lone figure remained by the altar, running long fingers over the sacramental white tablecloth. The high vaulted ceilings ceased to echo the noise and chatter of voices, and one last dove perched on the back of a pew, warbled a note at him, and then departed through a portrait window.

Remus Lupin ran a hand through his hair and smiled wistfully.

It was, truly, one of the happiest days of his life. Lily and James had always been meant for each other, and even in this time of darkness, their combined joy was reason enough to be glad. He was, however, tired from the long service and still a bit haggard from his transformation days earlier. As he turned to step down from the platform, his vision wavered a little and he missed his footing. Alarm shot through him – and then a hand on his arm, a firm grip, and warm words whispered in his ear:

"Alright there, Moony?"

He relaxed a little and grinned tiredly. "Alright, Padfoot." As the two started down the aisle, Remus still leaning on Sirius, he ventured, "I thought you'd left with the rest."

"I was about to, but Peter said he'd noticed you lingering…a little pale, perhaps…"

"Ah. Worried?"

"Not a bit." They stepped out into the January sunshine and Remus winced, still not quite used to the light. The day was chill and windy, though the formerly impending snow had been witched away. "You're coming to the reception, right?"

Remus glanced over a little, but Sirius was gazing intently at the stone stairs as they descended them, carefully avoiding patches of ice.

"I don't know. Lily's family were a little," Remus cut himself off as he noticed a Muggle car driving away and continued in a low whisper, "Mugglish?"

"They won't be coming, I'm sure," his companion answered with a wry twist of his mouth. "You should have seen their faces when Lily arrived on that griffin."

He nodded, but doubt still nagged at him. "Sirius, I can't dance – "

"No one asked you to…"

"I haven't the least idea what to wear – "

"Wear what you've got on now."

"And how am I going to get home drunk?"

"No one's going home; James invited the wedding party to stay over for the traditional housebreaking." Sirius detached himself from Remus's arm and went over to his motorbike, rubbing a bit of frost off of the seat. He slung a leg over it and looked inquiringly to Remus. "No more excuses, Moony."

Remus watched him take off and wondered how, after all these years, he allowed Sirius to rope him into things as if they were still boys at Hogwarts.

* * *

Hours later, a very nervous Remus sat wedged between Sirius and Peter. On Sirius's left sat James, and then Lily, and then the maid-of-honor – Lily's pokerfaced sister, Petunia. Dinner was nearly over, and James had just proposed a toast, and Sirius had risen to say his few words. Remus half-listened, uncomfortable in the large dining hall because of the large number of people (it seemed everyone in the wizarding world was present) and the oppressive Heating charms, apparently cast by someone with a rather heavy wand hand.

At last dinner was over and Remus was able to sidle away from the main dance floor and into the recessed bar nook. He wasn't much of a drinker, but got anxious at large social gatherings and found it was easiest to be ignored with a glass of some sort in his hand, hunched over the bar and pretending to be watching the Muggle television.

The bartender didn't know what a butterbeer was, and Remus disliked the taste of Muggle beer, so he ended up with a glass of rum – something he at least recognised. Over his shoulder, he could hear the announcer (what had Dumbledore called him? A _deee-jay_, whatever that was) call for the 'happy couple and respected members of the wedding party' to come out and dance.

He was vaguely familiar with Muggle wedding tradition, and knew that Sirius would be dancing with Lily's sister. Smiling a bit sloppily, he wheeled around in his seat and leaned back to watch.

Instead of the amusing spectacle he had hoped for, he saw a mischievous looking Sirius storming towards him and immediately whirled back around, digging fingernails into the polished bar-top.

_Oh Merlin no…_

"Hey Remus," Sirius drawled in his ear for the second time that day. "The Muggle bitch says nothing doing. Want to dance?"

His breath was still warm, but now smelled slightly of alcohol. Remus bristled involuntarily, the wolfish instinct inside of him warning against anything foolish.

"Alright," he agreed and before he could manage to say anything else Sirius had him around the waist and was dragging him back into the main hall.

The music was Muggle, a slow soft song, and Lily and James were already dancing, their gazes entwined as tightly and lovingly as their eyes. Petunia had chosen to dance with Peter, who looked rather nervous as she dragged him around the dance floor, and a number of the other bridesmaids were also dancing – a paunchy blond with Dumbledore, a redhead that Remus thought he recognized from his school-days with another of Lily's relatives. Sirius's grip around his waist tightened and he stiffened.

"I'll lead," he said shortly as they twisted around the floor.

Remus was perfectly happy to let him lead, his mind too distracted by the others to really focus on what he was doing. No one really seemed to notice them, or perhaps it was the liquor telling him to relax. He complied, content to relax, boneless, in Sirius's arms. He was wearing too much cologne, and he smelled like expensive wine and sweat and dried nervousness, probably from the obligatory best-man speech.

James and Lily passed them and both turned with wide grins to regard them. "You two are so drunk…"

"I am not," retorted Sirius a little loudly, but he did not sound drunk. Remus looked at him out of the corner of his eye. He was flushed, buzzed, certainly, but not drunk.

"I might be," Remus worked out of his fuzzy mouth, grinning back.

James shook his head before returning his attentions to Lily. "You certainly must be, to be dancing with Padfoot."

The song ended and abruptly Sirius broke away. Remus stumbled a step or two and looked around, momentarily confused and exasperated Sirius took his arm and lead him back to the bar, grumbling.

"I've done my duty…go back to getting drunk, Moony."

Remus finished his fifth glass of rum. On the screen, the fuzzy little players moved about erratically.

_Go back to getting drunk, Moony…_

_You certainly must be, to be dancing with Padfoot._

When the clock struck two, Remus put his head down on the cool, polished bar top and closed his swollen eyes.

* * *

"Careful with him, now."

"I'm perfectly capable of carrying a drunken Remus; I've done it loads of times before."

"Not when you were also drunk." Pause. "Nevermind, I take that back."

"Where?"

"Here's fine. Hold on, let me get blankets…"

"I'll fetch them."

"Alright, easy's the word. Watch the loose floorboard."

"There you are. And don't mind me saying, darling, but you don't look much better than poor Remus. Come on, Mr. Potter, bedtime."

"In a minute, Lily; I want a word with Sirius."

* * *

James closed the oak door behind them soundlessly and then turned to face a rumpled and bleary-eyed Sirius, who had unbuttoned his suit to scratch at his stomach.

"Alright, Padfoot, what's going on here?"

Sirius frowned drunkenly. "What are you talking about?"

He was, James reflected, one of the most coherent drunkards he'd ever known.

"What happened tonight, with Moony. You dragged him into dancing – "

"I asked him, and he said yes."

"He hates dancing. He was drunk, and you knew it. And then, you proceeded to ignore him for the rest of the night and let him drink himself into oblivion!"

Lily stuck her head out of their bedroom down the hall and whispered sternly, "James Potter, we have sleeping guests!"

"Sorry," James returned sheepishly. The rest of the wedding party were already conked out in the living room downstairs and in other assorted places throughout the house. He ran a hand through his jet hair, which stuck straight up, and then turned back to Sirius.

"Listen. I don't know what's up, but I wish you'd tell me. You're my..."

"Your…" Sirius drawled sarcastically.

"My whatever. You know. Best mate. Best _man_. And since you're not going to tell me what's going on – and I _know_ that you know – can you please just resolve it so that we're not divided about something as idiotic as your idiocy?"

Sirius blinked. "You're not making too much sense."

"It's three in the morning and I am hung over, I've got an impatient bride waiting on my wedding bed and my head looks like an unruly asparagus patch…"

"…as usual," he muttered.

They glared at each other, then smiled: first James, then Sirius.

"G'night, Padfoot."

"Night, Prongs."

And James turned to go, but Sirius called after him:

"Where am I going to sleep, again?"

James shrugged. "Normally I'd say my room, but I don't think Lily'd take too kindly to that idea. If there aren't any couches left…I suppose you could share with Remus. Might give you some time to apologise." With a rather devilish smile, James padded off for his bedroom.

There were indeed no couches left.

As Sirius settled in beside Remus, he thought distractedly that there were worse places he could be. For example, sleeping on the couch in James' room as he usually did when he stayed over. Sirius winced at the rather loud noises emanating from under the door and inwardly prayed that he would fall asleep quickly.

Eventually he did, and when he woke the sun was streaming through the curtains and he was curled around something warm, hairy, and ginger-coloured.

"Mmmph," he mumbled into a mouthful of Remus'ss hair.

_Remus's hair…_

Sirius jumped up on his elbows and scuttled backwards with an "Woah!" and proceeded to hit his head on the bed board and fall bonelessly back among the bedclothes.

"Good morning to you too," said Remus hoarsely as he turned over.

The sun played over the white sheets and crimson blankets – James' not-so-hidden tribute to Gryffindor – and made dappled patches on their skin. Seemingly uninterested in the fact that Sirius had been quite comfortably spooned around him seconds earlier, Remus turned his hand in the light, pupils contracting as he smiled.

"Lovely morning," Sirius said conversationally.

"Mm." He settled back into his pillow and stared up at Sirius, light eyes unnerving. Several moments of silence passed before he ventured, "Sirius?"

"Hm?"

"Why'd you ask me to dance?"

He grappled for an answer that would sound sane and decent. "I was drunk."

"But sober enough to be embarrassed about it."

"I was _not_ - "

Remus shrugged, awkwardly because he was lying down, and then in one smooth motion sat up and got out of the bed. "I'm going to make some warm milk."

The moment of surprise and chagrin passed as quickly as it had come and Sirius got up as well, frowning. "Some doing that'll take."

"Well, I was going to say 'coffee' but I don't drink it and no-one else is awake. Also, it is far too early to be awake and I plan to go straight back to bed."

"And?"

"Warm milk helps me sleep."

Silently, they crept out of the room – Sirius following mindlessly, or perhaps for some obscure purpose; Remus stalking wolfishly along. In the main hall, the sun cut cruelly through the picture window and across the wooden floors, which creaked ominously under their weight.

They tiptoed through the living room, full of people, and into the kitchen. Lily had furnished it with all sorts of Muggle oddities, and Remus cautiously opened the thing she called a 'fridge' to search for the milk.

While he shoved aside champagne and juice, questing for the plastic container, Sirius leaned over him, inspecting the leftovers from the wedding reception. Then:

"Remus?"

"Hm?" He spotted the milk in a far corner and with a look of utmost concentration leaned into the fridge to reach it.

"I'm sorry."

Remus bashed his head on the underside of the shelf above him as his fingers closed over the milk. Withdrawing quickly from the fridge, he caught Sirius's gaze. The dark-haired man was leaning on the open door, gently gnawing at his lower lip.

Sirius never apologized. "You're what?"

"I'm sorry; you're right. I was embarrassed, and what's more frightened, and disgusted with myself. There. Now can we kiss and make up?" His tone got steadily more sarcastic, but his eyes were earnest and there was a sort of twitch in his hands – perhaps that was why he was leaning so heavily on the door.

"Buh…" Remus opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and finally managed. "It's – it's far too early in the morning for this."

He rolled his eyes, looking his normal self, nonchalant and daring, but Remus saw his eyes flicker quickly. "Oh, bugger this all."

Still in a state of shock, Remus repeated, "You're sorry?"

Sirius let go of the refrigerator door and it gently closed around both of them, forcing Remus's back into the icy racks and then they were chest to chest, Sirius's hands knit around Remus'ss waist as if they were dancing. "Ancient history."

"Sirius?"

"Now, for some Grecian scandal…?"

Their lips met in a cataclysmic rush of motion, Sirius's colliding with his own, ice at his back and a fire in his chest.

The milk careened to the floor and exploded into fountains and rivers that ran under the dust motes illuminated by the rising sun.


End file.
